Mortal Veil by Vanessa Fewings

Author:Vanessa Fewings [Fewings, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: VMK
Published: 2013-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

BELGRAVIA WAS ONE of the wealthiest of London’s districts, if not the world, with its pristine stucco designs and the grandest of classical terraces complimented by the lavish green spaces surrounding it and perfectly tended streets.

Taking in the grandest of all the buildings, with its towering baroque pillars and opulent cream colored brickwork, Belshazzar’s appeared more like a luxury residence than a club, situated smack bang in the middle of Belgravia.

Feebs was visibly excited. “See, I told you your tattoo was important.” She beamed a smile and asked, “Does this place seem familiar?”

I shook my head, questioning her instincts as we approached.

The front door opened and a man appeared, easily passing for a bouncer, albeit a well-dressed one.

He seemed to be waiting for us to initiate the conversation and it suddenly dawned on me we probably needed a password.

“Well, show it to me then,” he said.

“Excuse me?” I cringed inside.

Without a word, he grabbed my left arm, eased back my shirt sleeve and gazed down at my tattoo.

Uncomfortable with his manhandling, I stepped back off the top step, bumping right into Feebs who was standing too close.

“Well that’s original,” the bouncer said, leaning forward to open the door. “That allowed?”

“What?” I stepped back up to his level.

“Adding to the brand?” He gestured that Feebs could enter too.

Once inside, we shared a congratulatory high-five and strolled down a long hallway decked with crystal chandeliers and a red lush carpet guiding our way.

When the double doors opened the music hit us. We entered what looked like a swanky bar, the majority of the sharply dressed guests elegantly donned in black.

Still wearing jeans and a plain white shirt, I felt underdressed and hated being so conspicuous.

Feebs nudged up against me and said, “Look around, you might know someone. Someone might know you.”

I gave a nod.

“I need to find a loo,” she told me and headed over toward the barman.

After exchanging a few words with him, he motioned toward the end of the sumptuously decorated room and Feebs started off in that direction.

Discreetly, I scanned the many faces, hoping to recognize someone. I settled on the twenty-something blonde sitting at a table just a few feet away, her tight bodice emphasizing her small waist, her pretty face a little too still as she listened intently to her friend’s conversation, her rouged cheekbones accentuating her paleness. The man beside her, a few years older, possessed startling chiseled features, and his movement was slow and deliberant as he gracefully lifted a glass of wine to his lips and sipped; his eyelids half closed in pleasure.

It was hard to recall ever seeing this many beautiful people in one place, many of them carrying an air of gothic elitism, a distinction I gathered from their majestic movement, bestowing a quality of preciseness that was compelling to watch.

Still waiting for Feebs to return, there came a growing unease brought on by the occasional piercing stares that met mine. It appeared the other guests were also sussing me out.

I was ready to leave and couldn’t wait for Feebs to get back.

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